Thanks so much to you all for your kind words of support about my last post. This book has been such a personal project and I so appreciate your encouragement! So thank you!

And also thank you to everyone who jumped in and voted on the cover image in my last blog post. In the end, I completely agreed with those who felt that Cover B (with the figures on top) probably was better graphic design. But Cover A won by a margin of 70% to 30%, because, let's face it, it's more dramatic. I loved seeing how your comments completely encapsulated my difficulties in making the decision. So here is the cover image:

The book has been through final copy edit and I'm just working on finalizing formatting today. It should be up on Amazon as an e-book within the next day or two. The print book should be available through Amazon hopefully by the end of the week.

In the meantime, how's about a book teaser? Just to give you a taste of my fiction writing style and a sense of what to expect. As I've mentioned, the book is historical romance with a time-travel twist. It's meant to be an enjoyable read that is PG-rated and fun. The kind of thing that you would curl up with on the beach and then pass off to your teenage daughter when you're done without worrying about content.

If you want to check out the book description, you can here. Otherwise, just jump in and read the Prologue below. Also, the text can be hard to read on the blog here, so this link takes you to a pdf version, if you'd prefer.

Though secretly Emme Wilde considered it more of a ‘spiritual connection’ than an actual full-blown neurosis.

Of course, her brother, Marc, her mother and a series of therapists all begged to disagree.

Thankfully
her best friend, Jasmine, regularly validated the connection and
considered herself to be Emme’s guide through this divinely mystical
union of predestined souls (her words, not Emme’s). Marc asserted that
Jasmine was not so much a guide as an incense-addled enabler (again, his
words, not Emme’s). Emme was just grateful that anyone considered the
whole affair normal—even if it was only Jasmine’s loose sense of
‘normal.’

Jasmine
always insisted Emme come with her to estate sales, and this one
outside Portland, Oregon proved no exception. Though Jasmine contended this
particular estate sale would be significant for Emme, rambling on about
circles colliding in the vast cosmic ocean creating necessary links
between lives—blah, blah. All typical Jasmine-speak.

Emme
brushed it off, assuming that Jasmine really just wanted someone to
organize the trip: plan the best route to avoid traffic, find a quirky
restaurant for lunch, entertain her on the long drive from Seattle.

At
the estate sale, Emme roamed through the stifling tents, touching the
cool wood of old furniture, the air heavy with that mix of dust, moth
balls and disuse that marks aged things. Jasmine predictably disappeared
into a corner piled with antique quilts, hunting yet again for that
elusive log cabin design with black centers instead of the traditional
red.

But
Emme drifted deeper, something pulling her farther and farther into the
debris of lives past and spent. To the trace of human passing, like
fingerprints left in the paint of a pioneer cupboard door. Stark and
clear.

Usually
Emme would have stopped to listen to the stories around her, the
history grad student in her analyzing each detail. Yet that day she
didn’t. She just wandered, looking for something. Something specific.

If only she could remember what.

Skirting
around a low settee in a back corner, Emme first saw the antique trunk.
A typical mid-nineteenth century traveling chest, solid with mellow
aged wood. It did not call attention to itself. But it stood apart
somehow, almost as if the air were a little lighter around it.

She
first opened the lid out of curiosity, expecting the trunk to be empty.
Instead, she found it full. Carefully shifting old books and papers, Emme found nothing of real interest.

Until she reached the bottom right corner.

There
she found a small object tucked inside a brittle cotton handkerchief.
Gently unwrapping the aged fabric, she pulled out an oval locket.
Untouched and expectant.

Filigree covered the front, its gilt frame still bright and untarnished, as if nearly new.

Emme
turned the locket over, feeling its heft in her hand, the metal cool
against her palm. It hummed with an almost electric pulse. How long had
the locket lain wrapped in the trunk?

Transparent
crystal partially covered the back. Under the crystal, two locks of
hair were woven into an intricate pattern—one bright and fair, the other
a dark chocolate brown. Gilded on top of the crystal, two initials
nestled together into a stylized gold symbol.

She
touched the initials, trying to make them out. One was clearly an F.
But she puzzled over the other for a moment, tracing the design with her
eyes. And then she saw it. Emme sucked in a sharp breath. An E. The
other initial was an E.

She opened the locket, hearing the small pop of the catch.

A gasp.

Her hands tingled.

A sizzling shock started at the back of her neck and then spread.

Him.

There
are moments in life that sear into the soul. Brief glimpses of some
larger force. When so many threads collapse into one. Coalesce into a
single truth.

Seeing him for the first time was one of those moments.

He
gazed intently out from within the right side of the locket: blond,
blue-eyed, chiseled with a mouth hinting at shared laughter. Emme’s
historian mind quickly dated his blue-green, high collared jacket and
crisp, white shirt and neckcloth to the mid-Regency era, probably around
1812, give or take a year.

Emme
continued to look at the man—well, stare actually. His golden hair
finger-combed and deliciously disheveled. Broad shoulders angled
slightly toward the viewer. Perhaps his face a shade too long and his
nose a little too sharp for true beauty. But striking. Handsome even.

Looking expectant, as if he had been waiting for her.

Emme would forever remember the jolt of it.

Surprise and recognition.

She knew him. Had known him.

Somehow, somewhere, in some place.

He felt agonizingly familiar. That phantom part of her she had never realized was lost.

The sensation wasn’t quite deja vu.

More like memory.

Like
suddenly finding that vital thing you didn’t realize had been
misplaced. Like coming up, gasping for air, after nearly drowning and
seeing the world bright and sparkling and new.

She stood mesmerized by him until Jasmine joined her.

“Ooooh, you found him.” The hushed respect in her voice was remarkable. This was Jasmine after all.

Emme nodded mutely.

“Your circles are so closely intertwined. Amazing.”

Jasmine turned the locket in Emme’s hand.

“What does this inscription say?” she asked.

Emme
hadn’t noticed the engraved words on the inside left of the locket
case. But now she read them. Her sudden sharp inhalation seared,
painfully clenching.

Oh. Oh!

The words reverberated through her soul, shattering and profound.

Emme
didn’t recall much more of that day—Jasmine purchasing the locket or
even the little restaurant where they ate lunch. Instead, she only
remembered the endless blur of passing trees on the drive home, the
inscription echoing over and over:

Nichole Van has repeatedly been labeled as a hot, new, up and coming photographer. As a Utah wedding photographer and a Utah
portrait photographer, she specializes in turning everyday life into art. Nichole loves expressing the unique beauty of
every client, creating artistic images that make people gasp when they see them.

As an international award-winning photographer, Nichole won the prestigious International 8x10 Portrait of the Year from
Wedding and Portrait Photographers International (WPPI) for 2007. Consequently, her international award winning photography
was featured in Rangefinder Magazine in June 2008. She has also taken First, Second and Third place honors from WPPI in other
international competitions for her child and family photography. Additionally, Nichole has received numerous Accolades of
Excellence and currently holds an Accolade of Photographic Mastery from WPPI.

In addition to her love for photography, Nichole loves teaching and enjoyed being English faculty at Brigham Young University
for nearly 10 years. As the best of both worlds, teaching photography to others is her passion. Nichole currently offers
international photography workshops focusing on helping others enhance creativity and artistry in their photos. Combining her
excellence in teaching with her photographic knowledge, Nichole’s Life as Art Workshops are quickly revamping industry standards
for photographic workshops.

Nichole lives in southern Utah County with her husband and three children. You can see her work at www.nicholeV.com.